


you know how to make a boy feel warm

by kyuttea



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Mentions of Blood, bad boy!jihoon, so this is basically about a bad boy who's really soft for you lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-27 20:21:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14433363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyuttea/pseuds/kyuttea
Summary: Prompt: “Wha-what are you doing in my apartment?!”     “Testing your security, which is absolutely horrible considering it’s 2 AM and your door was unlocked. You should also invest in an alarm if you don’t want psychopaths breaking in.”     “You mean like you?”     “My sanity is fine, unlike yours, you unsafe idiot.”





	you know how to make a boy feel warm

’ _Ouch_! Fuck…’

This wasn’t the greatest moment of Jihoon’s life, he was aware of that, but, frankly, he would pick bumping his knee into a leg of your table over getting beaten up until all he could see was red any day.

It was fairly dark in your kitchen; only the faint light of the Moon was cutting through the window as Jihoon tried to get adjusted to make out the edges of furniture, for he couldn’t afford himself another  _loud_  mistake. One of his palms landed on the surface of your counter, fingers of the other hand clutching the handle of your drawer. As slowly as possible and as quietly as he could manage he pulled the drawer toward his slumped form to reveal its shadowed contents. While he was rummaging through the stuff, looking for a certain one-a first aid kit, or at least a band-aid, something like that,  _anything_  like that-he felt a sharp and deep twinge somewhere above his right temple. It was the adrenaline diminishing its delicious amounts in his blood stream, he figured, and his brains finally receiving the signals of his nerves that something’s  _wrong_. He didn’t feel it while running here, his mind was just too fizzy for that. Good thing he at least managed to regain his composure after the hit to slip out of the fight right when his opponents got distracted by the booming sound in the distance. It had to be his lucky day-or rather night-for he was sure he’d be lying on the pavement now with a blurry sight of the three men’s feet sauntering away from him.

His fingers moved deliberately,  _silently_. Ha, just imagine you jolting awake because of this, finding him riffling through your drawer in the middle of the night. Oh, what a crazy life he was living, full of risks and hazard-the things that made him feel truly alive.

He felt warm there, too warm actually. His thick jacket was practically suffocating him as the tiny flakes of snow hovered in the still air behind your kitchen window. A heavy sigh slipped from between his tingling lips, the left corner of the lower one sore and tasting like coins. Where’s the damned band-aid package?

‘I have a gun.’

Jihoon’s ears perked up at that; the voice was shaky, yet he could hear forced determination in it. His digits halted immediately, fingertips stopping at some hard, round object-a duct-tape? Anyway, who cares? You’re  _there_ , and you’re awake, and… you have a gun?

‘A-And I called the police.’

Jihoon’s eyes widened, heart pace quickening until it started pounding in his ears. He turned around, hastily, which wasn’t the best decision if you think about it, but he didn’t give much thought to it as he exclaimed, ‘You did what?’

The shadow silhouette in the doorframe, which he figured was  _you_ , didn’t move, simply stood there in silence until Jihoon began to wonder if it all was just some kind of an elaborate hallucination. Maybe his mind was playing tricks on him, his continuous thoughts of you finally driving him insane to a point where he sees you in the void shadows casted by the moonlight, hears your voice in the silence of the dancing snowflakes on the other side of the window, picks up the words supposedly uttered by you in the friction of his jacket when he moves. Whatever it was-his imagination, or the actual reality-he heard it again, except it was a whisper this time, holding some confusion, irritation and certainly at least some fear within itself.

‘The fuck…?’

It had to be you, the  _real_  you. No way in this universe could his mind conjure up such softness of your whisper like that.  _God_ , even such a hellish word sounds angelic when coming from your lips; they must be delicate like feathers of the majestic wings that angels cherish so much, and there’s nothing else that he wants more than to be lucky enough to know how they would feel against his skin.

‘It’s me,’ he uttered and added, just in case, ‘Jihoon.’

A second of more silence later, he heard the shuffling of your feet, the fluffy socks (that you loved to sleep with in the winter) against the hard floor. He observed your shape moving a couple of steps by the wall and then-

_Click_.

The sudden brightness was too much for Jihoon’s eyes; he blinked a few times, squinting, trying to adjust to the change, your illuminated frame coming into his sight. Dishevelled hair, sleepy yet wide in shock eyes, baby blue pyjamas with tiny red tomatoes-or apples, it was hard to tell-and red woolly socks that complimented the fruits scattered in the sky blue, oh and a hairbrush tightly clutched in one hand, not in a threatening way, though.

‘Wha-what are you doing in my apartment?’

_Why do you have to look so pretty?_

‘Testing your security,’ Jihoon began explaining his lame justification for being there, trying to appear unaffected, that was a hell of a challenge, though, what with all the warmth caged between his winter jacket and his flaming body, and with your eyes staring at him, wide and deep like oceans that a man could slip into with no way out. ‘Which is absolutely horrible, considering it’s 2 AM and your door was unlocked. You should also invest in an alarm if you don’t want psychopaths breaking in.’

Your mouth fell open at the mention of unlocked door and stayed agape until it was your time to speak, to  _retort_  with growing confidence. ‘You mean like you?’

‘My sanity is fine,’ Jihoon declared, unzipping his jacket, ‘Unlike yours, you unsafe idiot.’ The thought of someone actually breaking into your apartment made his stomach sink; he made a mental note to himself to check up on you more often. ‘And is  _that_  your gun?’ He gestured toward the hairbrush, which could probably do some damage to intruder’s skull if you knew how to properly use it in such case, but he doubted you took a class of How To Knock Out A Burglar With Things You Find On Your Nightstand. Yet again Jihoon made a mental note to teach you how to fight, or more precisely defend yourself.

You glance down at the hairbrush, pursing your lips and stepping to the table to place the brush down. ‘Well, that’s all I could grab before rushing here to see who the fuck is ruffling through my stuff.’ Your hand came up on your hip and your words were laced with obvious accusation, which hit him with the realization that once again he fucked up.

‘I’m sorry.’

You heaved a sigh, the one of I’m-kinda-used-to-it-by-now-I-guess, which squeezed Jihoon’s heart. He truly did feel remorse, albeit he perhaps never knew how to properly convey it.  _But wait…_

‘Did you actually call the police?’

He watched you shake your head, your lips curving into a taunting smile, and the little sound you made as a ‘no’ was way too adorable for Jihoon’s sake. Then your eyes narrowed at him, ‘Do I need to, though?’

It was his time to shake his head, ‘No, I’ll just leave.’

‘You’re bleeding.’

‘Am I?’ He thought you had enough of a trouble already, and he didn’t want to burden you with all his messed up shit. He could only hope not to run into those choleric guys on the way home.

You clicked your tongue in annoyance of him making a show of being clueless. ‘You think I don’t know what you were looking for in that drawer?’ Your brow arched questioningly,  _accusingly_ , and Jihoon couldn’t help but shift from one foot to another, feeling rather abashed.

‘It’s in the second one,’ he heard you state, exasperation in your tone. He then watched you step toward him, flippantly pushing his body away from the counter with uninterested expression on your face. He observed your next movements right beside you, your supple fingers opening the drawer, carefully flicking through plastic bags, scissors, some notes and other random shit that people keep in their kitchen drawers; why do they do that? Are they saving stuff for after the apocalypse swipes all the plastic bags off the planet? Well, except the ones in your drawer, of course. They might be valuable when the zombie infection spreads throughout the Earth, right?

Anyway, who cares about any of that when you’re so fucking close to Jihoon? The marvellous scent of your shampoo, or perfume, or some fancy pillow case mist-or whatever the hell it might had been-punched his senses and honestly the blow he’d taken to his skull that night couldn’t even compare to what this scent did to him; the haze that blinded his mind during the fight came nowhere close to the dizziness he felt right now, inhaling the magic of  _you_  that was an absolute winner, a total killer.

He wondered if you’d catch him if he stumbled and fell right that moment, in your kitchen at 2 something in the morning. He could tell you it’s the wound’s fault, he could say he got into a fight with three guys and it was just a tad bit too much for his body, plus he hadn’t eaten much that day.

Anyway, what do we have here?  _Oh_ , you’re not wearing a bra? Of course, you’re not; it’s night time, you were sleeping.

Wow, okay; he had survived lots of fights, even the smell of  _you_  hypnotizing his weak mind, but  _this_ … he was sure, this would definitely make his heart burst like the little pathetic thing that it was.

The deep breath that he took didn’t fucking help, when all he could sense was you, all he saw was you and all he could think about was you.

Oh, wait, it’s definitely tomatoes on your pyjamas, not apples.

_Fuck_ , stop staring. Focus, Jihoon.

He gulped, hoping to swallow down the thoughts, that weren’t exactly innocuous, then again they only accelerated when you turned to face him, your hand in the air between your bodies, fingers gripping some cotton pads and the tiny package of band-aids, which if Jihoon had paid enough attention he would have noticed were vibrant yellow with some animation characters chasing each other on them, yet he fixated his gaze on the floor. This was so freaking silly; how old he was? Fourteen? The extreme warmth he felt inside that stupid, thick jacket and the blazing embarrassment itching his cheeks as you gazed at him with those beautiful, stunning eyes were just too much. He attempted to get rid of the feeling by jutting out his lower lip to blow upwards, the fringe on his brow fluttering in the process. That gave him little to no comfort, and upon hearing your voice his eyes snapped up to yours.

‘Take off that jacket, if you don’t want to end up on my Christmas dinner table.’

He managed a chuckle, sighing inwardly, finding some serenity in your casual tone.

He eased the jacket off himself as you filled a glass with water, handing it to him after.

‘Thanks.’

‘To the living room.’ You motioned with a jerk of your head and strolled toward the destination.

Jihoon draped his jacket over a chair in the kitchen and followed your cute figure adorned with the adorable pyjamas, which he was certain would be the death of him, and that sounds fucking odd, yet he couldn’t help but sip from the glass to revitalize his sanity.

He found your living room tidy and clean like the usual, save for the few candy wrappers on the coffee table in front of the couch, which you were patting with your hand, beckoning him over to take a seat near you. He did just that, like a man hypnotized, which wasn’t entirely a lie, the closeness of your eyes and your… whole body had him breathless.

‘Since I don’t have any alcohol, or anything like that,’ you explained, taking the glass of water from his grasp, fingers grazing over his, ‘This’ll do.’

Jihoon watched you dip a cotton pad into the water and then reaching up to gently wipe at his cheekbone, where the blood had trickled down from the wound; he wondered how in the hell it wasn’t gushing out of the damaged flesh anymore while it was rushing through his body at such intense force and speed now.

It was fascinating to watch you like that, all concentrated, brows knitted together, focused on your tender touch as it was inching toward the wound itself. He adored the way you tucked your lip between your teeth, the lovely tint deepening into an even more captivating one. He was so enthralled by your presence that he scarcely noticed the lack of damp cotton on his skin, but when he eventually did he shifted his gaze toward your eyes and found them already fixated on his. A wave of heat surged throughout his cheeks, chest and arms; he got caught staring and now all he could do was pull his eyes toward the Christmas tree behind you.

You resumed lightly stroking his skin, nearing the edge of the wound, and when he felt a sharp pang there he jolted his head backwards, earning a frown from you.

‘Hold still,’ you hissed, your hand reaching up to grasp the top of Jihoon’s head like a basketball to keep him in place.

He felt trapped, with your hands on his head, your face in such close proximity as you inspected the slit above his temple; he felt hot, even without the jacket, but, frankly, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

However, he knew all this was only debilitating his frail body, and if he got another glimpse of your lips he would collapse into your arms with his mind sinking into oblivion.

He dragged his eyes back to the Christmas tree again and stared as if it was the most interesting thing in the world, well it kind of was, because-

‘Is there a present for me too?’ He questioned, with as much dignity as he could muster.

‘Yes,’ you answered, patting the wound for the last time, making Jihoon wince.

‘Which one?’

You glanced over your shoulder, ‘The biggest one.’ When you faced him again you were smiling, a cute, tired grin that caused his chest fill up with warmth. ‘You won’t get to open it until Christmas, though.’

‘Oh,’ he pouted and you chuckled softly, grabbing his hand and dumping the bloody cotton into his open palm. ‘Ew,’ he frowned in disgust, which earned an eye roll from you.

‘This was on your  _face_.’

Although you seemed tired and sleepy, your eyes half-lidded with exhaustion, you took care of him well; the perfectly placed band-aid gave Jihoon some kind of comfort, and you too seemed content with your job, if the tilt of your head accompanied with the little smile while observing the covered painful spot was anything to go by.

‘You sure you don’t need a doctor, though?’

‘Positive.’

You simply shrugged, reaching for another cotton pad, dipping in into the water like the previous one. ‘How did you get hurt anyway?’

He knew you knew; you never missed the opportunity to lecture him, which you had the full right to do, especially when he showed up at your apartment in the middle of the night, uninvited.

‘I bumped into a wall.’

‘Uh-ha.’ You reached to tenderly wipe his chin, under the sore lip.

‘I was bumped into a wall.’

‘Well, that’s more like it,’ you retrieved your hand only to kind of point a finger at him. ‘That’s what I’d believe.’

‘It did happen like that,’ Jihoon nodded, and you sucked in a breath through your teeth.

‘Ouch.’

‘Yeah. The lip, though…’ He swiped the tip of his tongue over the sore spot as you watched, ‘The guy had a ring on his finger, with a stone, a big one.’

Your eyes grew wide at that, ‘Shiiit.’

He smiled, a sharp stab in his lip making him wince, the wound’s surface becoming more sensitive from the wetness of his tongue.

‘You want a band-aid on your lip?’ You questioned, placing the second piece of cotton darkened with red onto Jihoon’s palm. ‘It’ll feel weird, though, and you won’t really be able to smile.’

‘Nah, I wanna smile.’

Your  _okay_  was followed by a cute yawn, an exhausted and wide, but cute. It was contagious and Jihoon couldn’t help the involuntary huge breath that he took covering his mouth and arching his back slightly to stretch the sore muscles. His eyes got just a tad bit heavy too, but his heart was frantic; he knew falling asleep now would be as difficult as recalling every element of the periodic table, and every person he knew would have confirmed that he was indeed awfully bad at chemistry.

He was certain images of you would swirl around his desperate mind even in his own bed, memories of the night enveloping him, making him feel all fuzzy and warm inside while the sun peeks over the horizon to announce a new day.

Your velvety voice snapped him out of his daze. ‘Why do you keep doing this to yourself?’

He knew what you were asking him about, and if truth be told he wanted to take the blanket that was sitting on your couch and shield himself from your scrutinizing gaze.

‘Me? I’m not doing anything.’

You snorted incredulously. ‘Uh-ha.’

Maybe he was just being dramatic, but it seemed that your eyes were piercing right through him so he squirmed awkwardly on the couch, averting his eyes. Sure, he could say he happens to be at the wrong places, at the wrong time and, of course, with the wrong people, but if he’s being totally honest he chooses to be there every single time, and not even once he regretted the caustic comments that flew out of his mouth without a second thought; he stands by his words with great dignity. That’s what probably gets him into trouble, but that’s also something that he finds thrill in and in some twisted way it keeps him sane.

He sighed before answering, meeting your attentive eyes again. ‘It’s ‘cause I’m bitter, I suppose.’

You pursed your lips and gazed at him intently, brimming with curiosity. ‘About what?’

Jihoon shrugged, ‘Life?’

‘And  _this_ ,’ you gestured toward his face, referring to the bloody marks, ‘this helps you?’

Not necessarily. Well actually, he suspects that he might be ending up even more bitter about everything after the fights; however,  _this_ -him sitting next to you on your couch; the cosy ambience of your apartment; the way you so gracefully albeit effortlessly tucked a strand of hair behind your ear-helped him tremendously; his bitterness always seemed to falter efficiently when being around you.

Jihoon simply shrugged again. ‘Don’t you wanna go back to sleep?’

You stared at him for a second or two, your face expression rather indecipherable before you spoke something that did indeed catch Jihoon off guard and nearly made him choke on air. ‘Don’t you wanna kiss me?’

His eyes widened so much he was surprised they didn’t pop right out of his eye sockets and land in your lap. He was eminently staggered by your question, not to mention the tone you used; it oscillated between nonchalant and somewhat  _daunting_. It sounded challenging, you answering his question with a question, like kids bantering back and forth, except this was more adult-like.

Glancing briefly at his lap he managed a perplexed, ‘What? N-no.’ Then his eyes were back on yours, his tongue moving on its own accord to articulate a ridiculously sheepish, ludicrously low and so utterly idiotic, ‘Yes?’

His whole body was burning, yet he couldn’t possibly miss the way your cheeks were tinted a lovely crimson too as a taunting smile flickered on your lips.

‘Are  _you_  asking  _me_  if you want to kiss me?’

He felt like he won’t be able to make it out of there alive.

He sighed inwardly, frustrated. His mind tried to fathom the reason behind your words. Where you sleep deprived and couldn’t think straight; or maybe you made a bet with someone trying to humiliate him?

Jihoon’s heart was hammering against its ribcage and it was so insanely intense he thought it would burst right through and yet again land in your lap.

You seemed to be rather amused by his bewilderment, watching him fiddle with the ends of his hoody sleeves. ‘Is Jihoon, the _bad boy_ , getting flustered because of me?’

Oh, that must be it, you probably noticed the way he was blushing before that night and decided to tease him about it. Well too bad, because he’s not going to simply crumble and capitulate to you, there’s a reason he’s called a bad boy after all.

He was adamant in redeeming himself so he took a deep breath and stated a simple, but hopefully convincing, ‘No.’

You narrowed your eyes at him as if deep in thought, lips pursing to one side then the other, your fingertip tapping your chin for some dramatic effect.

He didn’t know what to expect from you, and when you uttered your next sentence-more like  _ordered_ -he almost jumped to his feet and flew out the window.

‘Then answer my question properly.’

He had thought about this kind of situation before, of course. His imaginative mind would dive into the widest oceans of  _what if_ s without much desire to crawl out the deep waters. But this was actually happening; you were most likely about to mock him like there’s no tomorrow, you would remind him of this very moment every chance you get, you were never going to let this die down, therefore he thought he was fucking insane when he opened his mouth to let you know that-

‘Ok, yeah, yes. My answer… is yes.’

He figured there was nothing to lose, except for your friendship; well… okay, there was  _so much_  to lose, but if not now then when? He had this stupid crush for a year, a whole fucking year, and maybe keeping it from you only made it all worse.

Confessing to you, even just about wanting to kiss you, surprisingly felt  _good_. Ripping his heart out and handing it to you was scary, but good.

If you laughed, he could say he was simply playing along, he would take his bloody heart back and move on; yet you weren’t laughing, or smiling, or… doing anything that could indicate his failure for that matter.

The air around you two stilled as if some bubble of ambivalence engulfed you both, inaudible  _what is happening_ ; _is he for real_ ; _wait, why isn’t she laughing_ echoing all around in those dizzy minds.

He heard you whisper some words under your breath, something along the lines of ‘fuck it’, and then he felt your soft fingers on his hand, snatching the cotton pads from his palm and dropping them somewhere on the table all the while he watched you wide-eyed. This was followed by you flipping his hand so the palm would face downward, then sliding it across his thigh to wipe it on his jeans.

If this wasn’t enough for Jihoon’s heart to stop, your quick movements to place both of his hands upon your cheeks was certainly the reason his heart skipped a couple of beats.

Your skin was soft and warm and…  _why are you putting your arms around his neck?_  Holy shit.

_Is this really happening?_

‘Do it.’

You were so close now he could see all the marks and pores of your face, and he loved every bit of it. That scent of you had him weak in the knees once again, his heart pumping as if trying to win a battle against the tiny heart of a mouse.

_Fuck_ , your eyes twinkled like the sparkly night sky enchanting the whole world; would you close them upon feeling his lips on yours?

You were getting impatient, brows raised expectantly, gaze flickering between Jihoon’s dark orbs and his oh-so eager lips.

Should he do this? Just like that? All it took was his guard coming off for a little while and you getting a sight of his flustered state?

‘Just kiss meeeee-

Half a command, half a whine there, he could sense a tad bit of playfulness too.

That striking scent; those inviting lips; your delightful eyes; the dizziness of his captivated mind; your arms around his neck, his caressing your cheeks… sleep deprived or not you were getting that kiss.

That’s how your adorable whine was cut off-it was muffled by his lips. It was more of a peck, though, than a full-on I’ve-been-in-love-with-you-for-a-year kiss. It still managed to ignite something within him.

He pulled away almost instantly to check your reaction. You blinked at him a few times, a ghost of a smile twitching the corners of your lips.

Jihoon’s breath hitched when you leaned in and kissed him again,  _properly_.

All of his most secret, most  _outrageous_  dreams were coming true right that moment, just like that, in your living room, where he’d been countless times, on your couch, which you both sprawled across during movie nights.

_Damn_ , what a crazy life he was living, indeed.

Jihoon had no idea if it was physically possible for his heart to become twenty times warmer, but it felt like it did. The most majestic flowers began to sprout in his chest, and the wilted ones started blossoming anew.

Your lips were pillowy, the kind that brings such comfort and ease the time seemingly cease its existence, all becomes one, galaxies swirl in human bodies, people cry gold and plants play symphonies.

You tasted like sunset in summer; his fingertips grazed heaven.

> (( ‘Wanna stay over and wait for Christmas together?’ ))

**Author's Note:**

> any kind of feedback is very much appreciated! pls :)))  
> you can also find me on tumblr @kyut-tea


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